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“Did you phone her employer to confirm the information?”
“No, I didn’t,” Trista said defensively.
“I see.”
Trista sighed with exasperation. “Why do you ask? Do you know something about her that I don’t?”
“I just wondered if you checked her references. It’s a fairly common business practice, after all.”
Trista flushed under the implied criticism. She felt worse, knowing that he was right. But in this case it hardly mattered, did it? After all, Brenda had worked out perfectly. “Why are you so interested in Brenda? You can’t think she’s responsible for any of this?”
He didn’t answer, just picked up his fork and started eating. She tried to concentrate on her food, but it was impossible to keep her eyes off Morgan for very long. She noticed little things, details she hadn’t thought about since she’d left him. The way he held his utensils, as if they were too small for his strong, capable hands. The way he slouched back in his chair slightly as he ate. The way his strong shoulder muscles bulged beneath the thin knit of his navy shirt. Morgan had always looked good in dark colors.
If he was aware of her covert glances, Morgan gave no sign. For once, his penetrating blue eyes were not focused on her. As he ate he glanced around the café casually, but Trista knew that weeks later he would be able to give a precise and accurate description of the restaurant and the people in it—including approximate ages, and educated guesses about what each of them did for a living.
“There was another reason I wanted to talk to you tonight,” Morgan admitted when his plate was empty.
“Oh?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear this.
“To apologize. For getting off track at your office. I appreciate that you’re trying to cooperate on this case, and I realize that the only way it’s going to work is if we avoid personal topics.”
“That sounds reasonable.” Trista sipped her water, marveling at how cool and calm they were being all of a sudden. What had happened to Morgan’s all-consuming anger? She decided she didn’t want to know.
“So what do you do at Suni Choopra’s campaign headquarters?” Apology over, he now steered the subject matter to neutral ground.
“I’m a volunteer there.” She didn’t bother to ask how he’d known where she was tonight. With all the information he had on her, she didn’t need to.
“Really?” Morgan shot her a puzzled glance. “I don’t remember you being interested in politics.”
“Things change.” Wasn’t that an understatement? “I met Suni two years ago. She was knocking on every door in my apartment building, asking how we felt about certain government policies.”
Morgan was right. She’d never had much interest in politics. But Suni had struck her as different. Within minutes of meeting, they were sharing a cup of coffee and talking like old friends.
The bond, she’d realized, was loneliness.
Most people would find it impossible to believe someone with a life like Suni’s could be lonely. She spent her days and most evenings surrounded by people. Her social calendar was full and her workdays long and varied. Yet Trista had soon realized that Suni had sacrificed many things for her political ambition, including a normal family life, with a husband and children.
“Didn’t you say that you met the Walkers at one of Choopra’s fundraising parties?” Morgan asked.
Trista nodded.
“And you started your practice what—two years ago?”
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